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“Maybe if you’d talked to either one of us, listened to our side, it would’ve gone differently,” I pointed out.
It was a little unfair, since I didn’t know exactly what’d been said between Jacqueline and my mom. But I was becoming more and more sure that something had been wrong with my mother when she’d left Roseland—that she’d had a mental imbalance or an emotional breakdown of some kind. And maybe if she’d gotten help, she would’ve been okay.
“I—” Jacqueline seemed about to defend herself, but then her gaze slid to Philip, and she sighed. “You’re right. I could’ve done more. I could’ve taken more time to consider, and listened to your side.”
And… that was it.
That was probably the best apology I was ever going to get from Jacqueline.
It felt a bit tepid, and although she spoke sincerely, I was surprised how little I cared. I didn’t think she was lying, and I even believed she’d chosen to do this of her own free will—Philip might’ve encouraged her, might’ve invited me over specifically to hear this, but it wasn’t like he was holding a gun to her head.
Still, her apology felt like a perfect embodiment of the expression “too little, too late”.
“Okay.” I nodded.
I wasn’t going to throw her words in her face, but I wasn’t going to just accept them because they’d been offered. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to thank her.
She read my word as the brush-off it was and cleared her throat. “Well, all right. I just wanted to tell you that.”
“Okay.”
If she was waiting for me to say more, we’d stand there all damn day. But fortunately, Philip intervened, putting an arm around my shoulders and ushering me inside. Jacqueline trailed behind us as he led me to the garden out back. I was surprised she hadn’t disappeared upstairs, but she took a seat on her husband’s other side as the three of us settled into the large chairs facing the ocean. Gulls called out softly from high in the air, and the sound of the water soothed my soul instantly.
How had I survived sixteen years in a land-locked state?
Philip and I chatted amiably about my physical therapy, school, and how the Princes were doing. He seemed genuinely interested in them, and although I knew their families all knew mine, I was pretty sure his interest had more to do with the time I’d spent in the hospital than any of that.
He had seen how they were with me, had seen them do their best to take care of me. All five of them had waited anxiously together for me to wake up after my surgery.
Strange as it was to consider, my grandpa had… bonded with the Princes.
About half an hour later, Philip heaved himself out of his chair and dusted his hands together. “I’m sorry to say this, but I have some business to take care of that can’t wait. You two stay out here for a bit. It’s so nice out.”
He smiled down at me before heading back for the house, and I suppressed an eye roll at his flimsy excuse for leaving me alone with my grandmother. It smelled strongly like a set-up.
Business. Right.
I cut a glance over to Jacqueline once he was gone, half-expecting her to bail now that no one was here to make her stay. But she remained in her seat, gazing out over the calm water.
We sat in silence for a few minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t really want to rehash what’d happened between us again, and I didn’t want to tell her personal details about my life. But there was something I wanted to know, a question she’d be more likely to have an answer to than Philip, even.
“Jacqueline. Who is my father?”
She physically startled at the question, wrenching her gaze away from the ocean to look at me. “I—what?”
“Who’s my dad?”
She blinked at me like she was wondering if the car crash had left me with an undiagnosed brain injury, then said slowly, “Leonard Parker.”
Leo. Everyone called him Leo.
Not that the man who’d raised me in Idaho had found himself blessed with a lot of friends, but the few acquaintances he’d made had always called him Leo.
“Did you ever meet him?” I asked, not bothering to clarify that I wasn’t asking because I’d forgotten the man’s name.
I just wasn’t sure he was my real father.
Her brows drew together, and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. “No. We learned about him after Charlotte left Roseland. I always assumed she’d kept him a secret from us because she was ashamed of him—when she found out she was pregnant, she never would tell us who the father was, no matter how hard we pressed.”
